


Great Undoing

by ringaroundtherollins



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Heartache, Hurt/Comfort, Lucha Husbands, M/M, Pain, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringaroundtherollins/pseuds/ringaroundtherollins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of Monday Night Raw [5/16/16.] Rusev attacks Sin Cara to distract and weaken Kalisto, and Kali loses it backstage. Sin Cara feels helpless in comforting Kali but he's determined to heal his broken husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Undoing

“Are you sure about this, Kali?”

“Sure, I’m sure,” Kalisto said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them as though hatching an evil scheme. “It’s just ADR. I’ve beaten him before, plenty of times.”

Sin Cara rested a hand on his husband’s shoulder. How funny, how interesting, different yet _wonderful_ to consider Kalisto that now. More than a partner. More than a lover. _Husband_. “Alright. It just seems weird, is all. I thought he was done pestering you.”

“What can I say? I’m fun to pick on.”

“I’ll be in your corner, just in case he tries anything.”

Kalisto winced. “Actually, _querido_ , I’d really like it if you stayed backstage tonight.”

Sin Cara was stunned—until he offered his explanation.

“I haven’t seen Rusev at all tonight, but he’s _gotta_ be here, which means he’s probably hiding out…and if he tries interfering in my match, which I’m counting on…I want you out of the line of fire. I just know he’ll try to mess with you to get to me, again.”

“So you want me to stay behind to protect me.”

“Does it sound backwards?”

“No, no. It makes sense. I appreciate your consideration, _amor_.” Sin Cara situated a hand behind Kalisto’s neck and kissed his forehead before returning his own mask over his face. “But I _will_ be watching. And if they try anything…I can’t say I won’t come running out there to protect you.”

“If they try anything, all bets are off. But until that point, I want to handle this fight on my own.”

His valor was inspiring. “ _Entiendo_.” Sin Cara towed Kalisto into his arms. Their hearts thudded almost in sync. “Go kick ass, Kali. And don’t let him tear your mask off.”

“Promise.”

 

Sin Cara kept his word, witnessing the match from backstage on one of the monitors.

His fingers curled into fists whenever Kalisto was flat on his back or belly, so close to defeat. His hands folded into one another as he prayed for success and survival. He had every bit of faith in Kalisto, his precious Kali, to pull this off yet again. To triumph as champion, tonight and this Sunday. If it was on his own, so be it. Sin Cara would always be there for him.

Till death parted them…

Kalisto narrowly escaped a hit by Del Rio in the corner of the ring. Sin Cara clapped for him. _That’s my Kali_ … _come on_ …

A rush of wind, a thunderous bellow and a bash to the neck swept Cara off his feet from behind.

Cara knew exactly who it was.

He tried pushing to his knees but Rusev kicked him in the gut, flipping Sin Cara like a pancake from his stomach to his back. A mighty foot plunged into his chest with another grunt. Suddenly Cara was on his feet, not by his own will but the heave of Rusev. He coiled his hands around Sin Cara’s neck and propelled him into the wall. Sin Cara hit the ground, nearly too dazed to comprehend the situation…

 

 

Kalisto had it.

He _had_ it…he _had_ this match, had ADR ready to lose…

Until a shout and a separate yelp, more terrorized than the frightening growl, flared with a glow from the Titantron. Kalisto elevated his stare to meet the big screen, and his heart stopped beating for just a moment. His throat constricted like a boa was strangling him.

Rusev was attacking Sin Cara and the footage was being broadcast before everyone’s eyes. Before _his_ eyes.

“No!” he cried. Before he could even think to react to the situation, Del Rio drove him against the ropes, restraining the Lucha Dragon against the ropes with a knee pinning his leg and holding his arm over the top rope. Forcing him to witness the beating of his beloved.

Rusev gripped Cara by the neck again and shoved him backwards. Sin Cara practically felt his skull bones on the impact.

“NO! AH!” Kalisto screamed, writhing against Del Rio’s grip without a beneficial result. His other arm stretched towards the screen, towards Cara, as if from here he could tag him out of the assault and protect him, take over… _That son of a bitch! Don’t you touch him! I’ll kill you_!

“You like this, huh, _perro_!?” Del Rio laughed in his ear. “Can’t do anything about it!”

Sin Cara was limp at Rusev’s feet. Rusev gathered him by the wrist and dragged him off-camera, his _perra_ of a fiancée swaggering behind him.

“NO! CARA!” Kalisto shouted. His eyes crushed closed, burning. _Get out of this, Kali, get to him_ …

Del Rio assumed no further distraction was necessary. Sin Cara was no longer on the screen. He freed Kalisto from the bodily bondage, and Kalisto scampered away.

_No_ , he thought with anger seething in his veins. _If I run back there, ADR wins. Rusev wins. They’ll know they’ve broken me_ … _they’ll know that’s what it takes_ …

Of _course_ it was just what it would take to break Kalisto. Sin Cara was his weak spot. That could have been accurately guessed by anyone. But he would not succumb to this weakness in front of them. Rusev had to be watching…had to be, studying his reaction, awaiting the inevitable outcome… _with Cara, where is he, where did he take him_ …

Kalisto had to focus. Focus. Concentrate…

The match continued. Poorly. Focus came in half-doses. Kalisto’s head ached, a side effect of his hurting heart. His anxiety swinging in fully. But he thought he might finally be wearing Del Rio down…all it would take was a bit…longer…in the ring…

But it was obvious almost immediately that the crowd was no longer focused on the match. Rather, something on the ramp.

_Don’t look_ , Kalito thought, chewing on his lip, knowing damn well what to expect. _You don’t want to see it_ …

Rusev kicked Sin Cara like a soccer ball down the long incline. Each time he pushed himself to stand, to fight back, Rusev would raze him again. Crumpled in a ball on the floor, he could only shrink down as his body struggled to endure the blows.

Kalisto put everything he had into the match. He anchored his attention on Del Rio. Couldn’t look outside the ring. Couldn’t be distracted. Couldn’t…

Rusev clutched Sin Cara’s shirt, confining him to the floor, waiting to see if Kalisto could win the match. Del Rio kicked out at two. Long way to go for the little _luchador_. Rusev gripped Cara by the mask and hoisted him to his feet again. Sin Cara could hardly stand on his own at this point.

His hands enveloped around Sin Cara’s skull again, forcing Cara’s look to the ring. As if he could look anywhere else right now. He could feel himself falling apart, helpless. This was a dirty tactic, an awful method of torment…but maybe Kalisto could fight it, resist the commotion…

Rusev screamed in Bulgarian. Cara could make no sense of what he said but he assumed the words were tormenting and cruel about him and Kalisto both. He was obviously frustrated that Kalisto wasn’t giving in. Kalisto’s back was turned to the commotion; he had ADR in the corner. Sin Cara begged him to carry on. It frustrated and humiliated Cara, playing the victim here. He didn’t want Kalisto to see this, see _him_ like this.

With a robust arm on Sin Cara’s shoulder and another on his gut, Rusev pitched Cara into the post and he collapsed at ringside, at just the right angle for Kalisto to catch on to the tumult. His resistance was drained. This was coming right at his face now. He launched his fist into Del Rio repeatedly but it was like hitting air. Nothing could possibly exist to him now except his partner in trouble.

_I know what he’s doing…I know what they’re doing…I can’t let it get to me but how can I focus_?

Rusev raised Sin Cara yet again, and Kalisto snapped. He shoved off Del Rio and charged in Rusev’s direction. Rusev positioned Cara before him like a human shield.

“ _What are you doing_!?” Kalisto screamed. He knew damn well what Rusev was doing and he knew that Rusev knew what he was doing…what he hated to admit was it was working.

Rusev smashed Sin Cara’s head into the post.

That was it. This couldn’t go on. Fuck ADR, something had to stop this, and if Cara couldn’t protect himself—

Del Rio caught Kalisto from behind and executed a Backstabber.

The distraction had worked to the greatest degree of success. Kalisto flopped in the air and smacked against the mat. Del Rio moved in for the pin. _One, two, three_.

Alberto Del Rio towered over Kalisto as the victor.

But the fight was far from over.

Sin Cara clashed with unconsciousness. How easy it would be to pass out right here, go to sleep, relieve himself of the pain by a simple siesta…something kept him here, though; kept him wakeful and alert. Something that was just as destructive and damaging as every single hit he’d taken from Rusev, and _then_ some.

Kalisto screaming in pain.

Rusev tossed him around like a child with an old toy. Kalisto’s tortured cries were clearly music to his sadistic ears as he forced Kalisto into the Accolade and clenched him tight.

“Kali…” Sin Cara groaned. He was grounded, pain serving as its own chains on him. He crept forward, incited only by the screams of his _amor_. Rusev was ruthless, neglecting the calls of the officials and the announcers and Kalisto’s own implorations for freedom. This was caustic. This was Kalisto’s utter breaking point.

And therefore, Cara’s.

Rusev let off at last. He managed to obtain Kalisto’s United States championship title and mock Kalisto, looming over him, before abandoning them both in a victorious march with his future bride.

Sin Cara heaved himself into the ring and skulked towards Kalisto like a wounded soldier. The officials tried to tend to him but Cara scoffed them. _They can’t help him the way I can_ …

Kalisto was on his stomach, bolstered on his forearms, quaking. His sniffles and cries were stifled but Sin Cara recognized them easily.

“Kali…” he managed from his throbbing throat. He moved a hand onto Kalisto’s shoulder. Asking him if he was alright seemed stupid. Sin Cara just needed him to know it was over, he was alright, and nothing could hurt him again…

But Kalisto hurtled to a sitting position, every inch of exposed skin scarlet red. He slammed a fist into the mat over and over and over. Never in the entire span of knowing Kalisto had Sin Cara seen him _this_ angry.

Kalisto’s neck twisted like an owl’s, and his teary, inflamed eyes met with Cara’s. It hurt Sin Cara just to see him this upset.

“Are you okay?” he uttered, voice fluctuating.

“I’ll be fine,” Sin Cara said. It was Kali he was worried about.

The officials ushered them out of the ring, gearing up for the main event. Sin Cara was feeble but he managed to roll under the bottom rope and land unstably on his feet. He captured Kalisto in his arms as he trundled towards the floor, and the Lucha Dragons served as each other’s crutches up the ramp.

Cara wanted to get Kalisto to the trainer’s room at once. After that sort of battering, he warranted a checkup. But Kalisto picked up the pace in the route towards the locker room, the opposite direction of the trainer’s room. He stumbled worse than a drunkard but he was determined to get there for whatever reason.

“Kali, where are you going?”

“Getting the hell out of here.”

“You need a doctor,” Sin Cara insisted.

“I’m fine.”

“Kalisto—”

“ _I said I’m_ _fine_!” Kalisto snarled. Demonstrating contrast to what he’d just spoken, Kalisto twirled around and grasped for the first thing within reach. It was a table lined with dozens of full paper water cups. He rolled an arm over the table, knocking down over half the cups in a single swish and spilling the water over the floor and himself. He seized the table with both hands and flung it across the corridor. The rest of the cups went airborne, gushing water in all directions, and the table clattered against the wall, collapsing onto its side. Kalisto rushed at the table, screaming in Spanish. He stabbed his foot into the table legs until it struck the floor flat. He drew back a step, trembling violently, then collapsed to his knees, weeping into his hands.

Sin Cara had allowed him to blow some steam as long as he didn’t injure himself in the process. Now he permitted himself to approach his crying husband, lowering to his knees beside him. Kalisto shivered. As soon as Sin Cara’s hands touched his back, he twirled around and threw his arms around Cara, sniveling into his shoulder.

Sin Cara had witnessed tears on Kalisto once, just once, as he could recall. Tears of joy on their wedding day. Now Kalisto was crying out of frustration and pain, both emotional and physical, and Cara was at a loss. 

“I’m so sick of this…” Kalisto intoned through his moans.

“I am, too, Kali, _shh_ , it’s okay…” He didn’t give a damn who wandered backstage and witnessed this breakdown. Except Rusev, perhaps, who would surely get a kick out of it. He encouraged Kalisto subtly to move to a different area, a more private place to cry, but Kali wasn’t moving. Therefore, neither was Cara.

“No, you don’t get it, Cara.” Kalisto drew out of the hug. Cara kept one hand on his shoulder. His black eyes stared into Cara, right through him. “I’m _sick_ of this. Del Rio’s done it, Ryback’s done it, now Rusev’s doing it…every single time. ‘Got a fight with Kalisto? Oh, winning’s easy—just attack his partner and he’ll break down.’ They drag _you_ into _my_ fight, and it pisses me off because it works _every single time_.” Kalisto pressed his knuckles against his forehead. “They know what my weakness is. It’s you.”

That didn’t make Cara feel fantastic about himself…though Kali had a point. “You are so much stronger than they think, _amor_. Stronger than _you_ think.” With his other hand, he caught a tear that’d gotten past Kalisto’s mask. “One little flaw isn’t going to throw you off your game.”

“One little flaw is all they have on me. And dammit if it’s not exposed…” He didn’t have to say the words for Cara to hear them. _Every single time_. Like clockwork.

“They’re assholes, Kalisto. They’re the bad guys. Of course they’re going to keep attacking you the best way they know how…it’s dirty and rotten and spiteful.”

Kalisto stared ahead at nothing in particular. His head was killing him, worse than a migraine.

Cara’s fingers tightened on his taut skin. “I’m so sorry that I make you weak, Kali. That I distract you.”

Kalisto shook his head, dismissing the allegation, but he didn’t look Cara’s way yet. “That’s not your fault.”

“Of course it’s my fault. I’m just too wonderful to ignore.”

Half a smile played on Kalisto’s lips. He perched himself on his butt, arms draped over his knees. “I’d rather have you in weakness than stand alone in strength.”

“I’d rather you have me in strength.” But Cara couldn’t help but wonder if his presence alone was detrimental to Kalisto’s championship run. His very wellbeing. It was as he’d said: every single time. That one little flaw. Overall chaos. Not fixing what wasn’t broken.

Kalisto finally looked at him again. His beautiful eyes were less wretched now. “You _are_ my strength, Cara, _créelo_. I love you so, so much. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you. We make a hell of a team. Both in the business and in marriage.”

“I believe it, but I need you to know, Kali, no matter what and above all, I’m here for you. I’ll protect you in any and all ways I can, I’ll avenge your pain and I’ll kiss your bruises.”

“Ouch.” Kalisto giggled.

“Soak them in a hot bath, then? With candles and music and bubbles?”

“As long as you’re there, it sounds perfect.”

“Let’s get to it, then.” Sin Cara lifted to his feet. He offered a hand to Kalisto. “I couldn’t refuse one right now, myself.”

Sin Cara would see to him tonight: to the car, back to their hotel room, to that delicious bath, and finally to bed. He’d hold Kalisto as tight as he could without reinjuring his tender areas. He’d kiss his lips, his shoulders, his neck. He’d stroke his muscled arm until Kalisto fell asleep. He’d love his husband as long as life allowed.

But it was a question that would itch his mind in a way he couldn’t scratch. In a way that bothered him enough to keep him awake for a while that night in spite of his exhaustion.

_Do I really weaken him more than I strengthen him_?


End file.
